


Across a Crowded Room

by LadyEmrys



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Inspired by a gifset, M/M, Nightclub AU, just some good old fashioned grinding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:08:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4580184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyEmrys/pseuds/LadyEmrys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Harry fell, clutching sheets and skin, intertwining his long fingers with those of the perfect creature he had glimpsed across a crowded room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Across a Crowded Room

Harry’s brows climbed high above the tortoiseshell rims of his glasses as he peered again at the debriefing he held. He blinked. His eyes flickered up from the paper to meet the challenge in Merlin’s gaze, and the other man slouched in the chair in front of him, daring Harry to start ‘nit-picking’.

The agent dropped the file onto the table beside him with a huff and levelled his friend with a stern look. “What in God’s good name persuaded you to organise a meeting _there_ of all places?”

“For the _last_ time, Harry - the venue is entirely dependent on the target’s interests." He gestured to the abandoned file containing an impressively sharp candid of their target – absently resolving to congratulate the intel division on the calibre of their latest crop of interns - and held his hands out in a gesture that one would assume complimented a frustrated bark of _‘It’s too late now,’_ or _‘What do you expect me to do about it_?”

_This was, however, a deliberate action on his part, and Merlin’s inner Demon preened at the put-upon expression twisting Harry’s face._

"This one happens to prefer loud music, cheap drinks and even cheaper company,” he explained simply.

Harry snorted and lowered himself to perch on the edge of the desk, straightening the cuffs of his already immaculate shirt in an effort to curb the urge to flick the glasses from Merlin’s nose.

_A preposterously long nose that seemed to be incapable of keeping out of other peoples’ business._

“And how do you suggest I fit into that crowd?” Harry smiled serenely, false politeness curling through every word. 

Merlin smirked, his lips pulling up over his teeth as he purred. “You’ll be with Lancelot.”

An indignant chirp came from the doorway, and Harry and Merlin turned their heads to find what they thought must have been Lancelot – before she was accosted by a terribly inexperienced makeup artist.

One delicate, manicured hand – nails laced with a powerful, soluble toxin – gripped the sharp jut of her hip as she titled her head and peeled her cherry-red lips apart in a sultry grin. 

“Are you calling me cheap?”

Merlin coughed around a snicker, as Harry pushed himself from the desk and sauntered over to the young woman who seemed to need the support of the doorframe in order to stand. He gently clasped the fingers of her hand and brought them to his lips, pecking the knuckles softly and glancing up to admire the powdered face and spidery lashes. 

“Well - if you don’t mind my saying, Dear Lady - you look it in that dress.”

Roxy dipped her head in thanks and smoothed the front of the slinky, red fabric. “I’d better – they had to stitch me into this thing.” Her gold bangles clinked together as she pointed to the seams straining across her waist, and as Harry frowned and peered closer, he saw the tiny, darker red lines of thread that were just visible between the overlap. 

He straightened and considered her unblended blush and impractically large, hooped earrings – although, knowing Merlin they too would most likely have a hidden function – and glanced down at his own attire.

“Why does she look like that and I look, well, like I’m dressed for an afternoon at Ascot?” 

“You’ll be sharp enough to look like her sugar daddy.”

The two agents balked at the Magician’s words and shared an uncomfortable look, waiting for the other man to – hopefully – elaborate.

Merlin took pity after a moment’s enjoyment of their pained expressions and swivelled in his chair, bringing up an earlier recording of a bulky, Caucasian skin-head, accompanied by three hulking men in dark suits. The tape had been snatched from a security camera at the very same club they would be visiting. 

Although the footage was blurry and grey – and the venue poorly lit – it was clear enough to note the target’s predatory gaze zeroing in on a pretty blonde girl near the bar, and though she was dangling from the arm of another man, his eagerness went undeterred, and he successfully slotted himself in between the girl and her companion. The other man was removed by one of the suited giants, and the target proceeded to box his prey in with his long arms and feral grin. 

The girl was hesitant at first, but after another drink was offered by the barman – and a strange look was shared between him and the target – she loosened up considerably. Merlin paused the footage just as the target had peeled his victim from her barstool and dragged her towards the door. “Barrett’s the kind of man who wants what another man has - he’ll be eager to muscle in on your territory, Harry.”

Lancelot piped up from where she’d been examining her nails with fascination instead of watching the video – she had, unlike Harry who had immediately come to protest, reviewed it earlier. “I would like my objection to the use of the word territory noted.”

Merlin snorted as he pivoted to face them again. “Duly.”

“Thank you.”

Harry frowned at the flickering image of the target and his conquest. “Wouldn’t it be safer to send us separately? I’m sure Lancelot won’t be short of male attention tonight, she could easily find someone to dangle from for a while and I could observe.”

“Because his interest doesn’t lie only with the fairer sex.”

“Ah,” Harry sighed, disappointed that he would actually have partake in the ridiculous charade instead of finding something – _someone_ – more diverting to entertain him.

Merlin nodded slowly and eyed the other man suspiciously. “Which one of you Barrett chooses cannot be predicted, but you’re both more than capable of dealing with him.”

Roxy’s lips twitched into a private smile at his obvious confidence, and took his assurance as her dismissal, anticipating that Harry would need - at least - another ten minutes of persuasion until he agreed to follow her into a loud, tacky club in the wrong end of London. 

As the door swung shut behind her sashaying hips – and the heels of her pointed shoes clicked along the tiles floor until the sound was barely audible beneath the hum of the lights overhead – Merlin rose from his chair and stood before Harry, straight-backed and serious.

“Harry, tonight will be the culmination of _months_ of meticulous information gathering, observation, and an inconceivable amount of planning on my behalf.”

“And?”

Merlin’s mouth hardened, though his amusement was betrayed by the soft mirth in his eyes. “ _And_ , let’s not have a repeat of the last time.”

Harry sniffed delicately and pondered the state of his favourite shoes – wondering if he should have worn another pair. “I was merely being courteous to the young lady,” he explained dismissively.

Merlin sucked in a breath and braced himself for a familiar argument. “Harry, courtesy was the last thing on your mind when you-“

Harry raised his hands in surrender and placated his friend with a submissive bow. “I’ll keep my hands to myself, then.”

“Fine.” Merlin dragged a heavy hand across his face, and nodded – though he didn’t believe one word of it. 

_He’ll not be content to sit alone at the bar and watch if Lancelot has all the fun._

“Off you go then, Lancelot’s probably just as eager to get this over with as you are.” 

As Harry trudged through the door to meet his companion, Merlin despaired, and prepared to postpone yet another debriefing.

_As the music bombarded his fraying temper and damn near deafened him, Harry seethed, sure that Merlin had taken his pre-emptive revenge._

Roxy - on the other hand - was actually enjoying herself, and although the garish décor and poorly mixed drinks weren’t what she was accustomed to, she liked the music well enough, and found herself wishing Harry would ask her to dance.

The man to her left had been sneaking glances at a pocket of rowdy young men in the corner, and Roxy surmised that he’d found something interesting that she was yet to determine.

_He’ll have his work cut out trying to get anyone home if he doesn’t wipe that sour look off his face._

She slid a slender hand along the skin above his collar, dragging his face closer to hers and pressing her sticky lips – as Harry dutifully supressed a grimace at the thought of the stain he would later find there - against his neck and ear.

“Music isn’t to your taste I take it?”

He grinned into his glass before he lowered it and cupped her chin, bringing her ear to his own lips and hissing, “What the bloody hell is it?”

She batted her enormous eyelashes with a coy smirk as she leaned forwards, thrusting her ample cleavage into the view of the man bracketed by guards at the other side of the mass of swaying bodies. 

“Trap Queen!” 

Her tinkling laughter was lost beneath the terrible din, but the action was enough to catch the mark’s attention. She pressed her hand against the mound of her breasts and slipped one leg off the footrest of the barstool, her hem hiking up her creamy thigh as she did so. Harry nodded at the question in her eyes.

_Yes, he’s watching you._

He slowly traced the pads of his fingers along the stretch of exposed skin as he darted forwards to catch the side of her mouth – the clever girl having turned her face away from his at the last second. She caught sight of Barrett across the room, and met his intense stare with a mask of naked desire as he raised his glass and smirked at her.

She was drawn back to Harry by the perturbed mutter in her ear. “The lyrics are terribly offensive, aren’t they?”

“Yes, but it’s catchy!” She batted his upper arm and pulled back with pursed lips.

His expression hardened as he withdrew his hand and waspishly summoned the bartender. “I’ll take your word for it!”

For the first time that night, Merlin’s voice carried over the confusion of music. 

“ _Well done you too_ ,” he congratulated. “ _Now, Lancelot, I think you have him. Harry - and watch your drink, the bartender slipped something in it - let her go_.”

Harry took the offered glass and thrust a note into the man’s chubby hand, waving off the change and turning to face the crowd again. He gripped the glass between his fingertips and with an imperceptible twitch of his thumb against the ring on his forefinger, dropped a fine powder into the caramel liquid. Swirling it gently as he lifted it to his lips he listened to Merlin’s coaching as Lancelot prepared to make her move.

_“Don’t push him if he doesn’t respond – if the bartender went to the trouble of spiking the drink then our man might be interested in Harry after all.”_

Following a few more cursive glances, however, it became obviously apparent that the vibrant young Lancelot - in her ridiculously tight dress and dangerously high heels - was more to Barrett’s taste, and Harry settled back against the bar with a wry grin to watch her work. 

He felt no fear for her safety, even in the wake of the hungry eyes that watched her approach her target, for he knew that the glitzy shoes concealed the same poisoned blade his own did, and stitched into the hems and slinky fabric of her dress was an arsenal of small knives.

_The skin-head and his goons didn't stand a chance._

Watching her stalk the room, deliberately drawing the eyes of more than a few interested parties and even more jealous partners, Harry grinned and took a long, slow swill from his glass.

_It truly was a sight to behold._

Satisfied that Lancelot was proceeding uninterrupted, he turned his attention to the young man that had been catching his careful eye since he'd slid into his seat at the bar and thrown back the first drink. 

The blonde had been subtly making his way closer to the bar, and unless Harry was mistaken, there had been a definite gleam of curiosity in the look that followed his path across the room when he first arrived. The striking blue eyes had been flickering across his face - and the exposed skin at his throat - unaware that the second the fair head turned Harry's own deep brown had mirrored the scrutiny. 

The younger man would be at least a head shorter than Harry was – if the height of his companions was any indication – and something jolted low in the agent’s belly at the thought of pulling the shorter body flush against his own. A dark cotton shirt stretched tightly over a well-defined chest, and Harry was only slightly disappointed to note that the jeans were far too ill-fitting to get a proper eyeful of anything else.

Sensing the younger man's gaze on him, Harry let his knees fall open as he reclined against the bar, shifting one foot to the floor and - with his bespoke trousers wrinkling in delightfully sinful places - revealed the long lines of his legs with a self-assured smirk in the blonde's direction. 

A flash of white as teeth were bared at the flush that crept along the blonde's neck, visible even in the dim, coloured lights above them. 

Merlin’s sharp warning had him biting back a laugh. “ _Don’t even think about it Galahad_.”

Harry raised his glass to the blonde and masked his reply with a sip. “Think about what?”

_“I mean it, you cretin, Lancelot isn’t done yet.”_

Harry huffed and glanced back towards the target, stiffening as he noticed that the suited guards were nowhere to be seen. Merlin snorted, _“She slipped a laxative into their drinks_ ,” and directed his gaze towards the bathroom door. Sure enough – as someone else pulled the door open – the three men were trying to intimidate their way further up the queue for the stalls. 

His eyes wandered back to the target, and found Lancelot tugging him towards the exit.

“That was fast,” he muttered, inwardly praising the younger agent as she bounced through the door and threw him a grin over her shoulder. As Barrett quickly and somewhat clumsily – _she’s slipped him something too, the brilliant girl_ \- gathered his coat, Roxy jerked her head towards the space beside Harry and favoured him with a pointed look that she punctuated with a wink, before she grabbed the target and pulled him into the night.

Harry sighed and was glancing down forlornly at his half-finished drink, when Merlin’s resigned huff sounded over the feed. “ _You can stay, Harry, Lancelot sedated him behind the bins outside and Gawaine is two minutes away_.”

Harry straightened in his seat and leered at a nearby security camera, sure that the Magician could see him. He was about to offer his thanks when Merlin’s dark chuckle gave him pause.

_“Lord knows I’d nea be able to peel you away from your new friend.”_

Harry frowned and recalled Lancelot’s parting look, and turned to his left. He was delighted – and only slightly startled - to find the blonde frozen in place, poised as if he had been leaning closer to Harry’s ear, before Harry’s face had suddenly come to rest inches in front of his own. 

Harry’s lips quirked at the corners, pulling into a sly grin as he shifted closer to the younger man. He dragged blunt fingernails across the taut fabric of the blonde’s shirt as he murmured against the skin of his neck – loud enough to be heard above the aftermath of a song well danced, but still low enough for the younger man to have to lean into his lips to hear him.

“You’re delicious enough as is, _Darling_ , you really don’t need to try so hard.” Harry purred, as he plucked the dark cotton stretching over a nipple and pulled back to enjoy the heat flooding across the younger man’s face. 

A slip of pink darted out to wet his lips, and the younger man sighed as Harry’s hand began to caress the meat of his thigh. Harry’s face was still a scant few inches from the blonde’s, and as close as he was, Harry could admire each freckle that danced across the bridge of his nose, and the flecks of green that intertwined with bright blue irises. Long lashes blinked against perfectly soft skin – _Harry knew that, of course, because his other hand was currently stroking a thumb in broad sweeps across the blonde’s freckled cheek_ – and the younger man melted into his tender touch.

“Name’s Eggsy,” he breathed into Harry’s neck, as the older man turned his face to the side and began nipping gently at his earlobe.

“Well Eggsy, how long have you been watching me?”

Eggsy's face flushed with embarrassment as he pulled back with pupils blown wide, but his reply was lost to a cheer that rolled through the room, as the sweat-slick youth in the glass box threw his fists in the air and yelled some dreadful profanity at the assembled crowd below him. 

" _Cause you fuckin' worf it girls!_ " he roared, as another chaotic symphony of bass and beat crashed towards the high ceilings and shattered the relatively still gatherings around the bar. 

As the throng parted to accommodate the newcomers, Eggsy recovered, grinned and reached a hand out to Harry.

Steeling himself for close contact with the unwashed masses, Harry threw back the remainder of his drink – inwardly preening at the blatant desire in Eggsy's eyes as the younger man watched his throat bob - and accepted the invitation.

He allowed himself to be led to the centre of the swaying throng and as the younger man turned to flash a wide smile, he slid his broad hands over the contours of the blonde’s hips, pulling him flush against the front of his shirt. The younger man didn’t hesitate, winding his arms around Harry’s neck and slotting one knee between both of the agent’s.

The delicious friction of rough denim writhing against his thighs ignited something hungry in Harry’s eyes, and as the crowd around them faded into silence beneath the roar in his ears, the older man gripped the base of Eggsy’s chin and jerked the youth’s face closer to his own. 

Little by little, Harry lowered his lips, catching the corner of Eggsy’s with his thumb and smirking as the blonde’s perfect bow parted with a sigh. 

Someone hard, heavy and drunk crashed into Eggsy’s back - his eyes hardened and their perfectly intimate peace was broken – and the younger man began to pull back as if to start something undoubtedly violent. Unwilling – _unable_ – to release him, Harry wrapped his other hand around the base of Eggsy’s skull and dragged him into a bruising kiss. 

A muffled exclamation of surprise, and then hands were grasping at his shoulders and neck, trying to pull him in even further. Harry’s tongue darted out to catch the blonde’s, Eggsy’s breath hitched, and in the wake of the stifled moan that curled around his tongue, Harry felt as if he were weightless. 

_The only things keeping him rooted to the earth, were Eggsy’s desperate grip on his arms, and the taste of cheap larger on Eggsy’s tongue._

Harry broke their kiss with a staggered breath and darted in to press his lips gently along the length of the blonde’s sharp jaw, nipping at the juncture between his neck and ear. Eggsy’s hands scrambled for purchase as the older man ran the tip of his nose across the path he had just traced with his tongue, and as Harry reached his ear, Eggsy shuddered against him.

“Come with me.”

The blonde nodded as if in a daze, murmuring his protest as Harry drew back, but was abruptly silenced by the firm hand that snaked around his waist and down to grip him through his jeans. 

The older man’s wicked smirk sparked something in the blonde, and Eggsy surged forwards to capture his lips again, nipping his way along the agent’s lower lip, and stepping back to admire his efforts.

_The wicked smirk melted into something raw and altogether dangerous, and Eggsy stiffened at the stab of arousal that settled in his belly._

He kept his eyes fixed on that hungry look as Harry led him through the crowd and to the door. He steadied himself with a long breath as they stepped into the cold, London night, and in the absence of the music, Eggsy was only too aware of his heart hammering against his chest.

_He was sure the older man could see his pulse leaping in his neck._

He frowned at the taxi already waiting for them, and as the other man pulled his door open – stepping back with a slight bow and cocky grin – Eggsy braced one hand on the roof of the car and turned.

“Where we goin’- um – I don’t think I-” he began, an unpleasant warmth flooding across his face as he realised that he’d been so caught up in the heat of the older man’s stare, he hadn’t actually asked his name.

Eggsy’s embarrassed fumble was cut short by the other leaning close and tracing his thumb along the jut of the blonde’s chin. “Harry,” the rich baritone rumbled, and its speaker brought Eggsy’s mouth level with his own, whispering into his lips, “ _My name is Harry_.”

_Harry._

Eggsy didn’t care that he was probably wearing the stupidest expression he’d ever worn in his life, or that his eyes fluttered closed as Harry pressed their lips together softly – he’d have given anything to a voice like that when it came attached to legs that long, and shoulders that wide, and a man named _Harry_.

He fell back into the taxi, shuffling over to the other side when he realised that Harry was climbing in after him. The driver didn’t ask for a destination, and Eggsy might have thought it strange, had Harry’s teeth not firmly attached themselves to his collarbone at that very moment.

London crept by in a blur of white, and red, and grey, and Eggsy felt himself slipping further and further into the delicious warmth radiating from the older man. 

By the time they’d come to a stop – amidst a brightly lit, Parisian-esque cul-de-sac – Eggsy was panting against the older man’s neck, his hands fumbling around the flies of pinstriped trousers.

The heat at his side vanished suddenly, before Eggsy was pulled from the taxi and towards a white door. In a trance he followed Harry into the house, barely registering the click of the lock sealing them safely inside. He gave no thought to the strange collection of plant clippings and insects lining each wall – his mind was far too occupied with the hands that stroked along his crotch. 

He managed to stagger up the stairs without injuring himself or his partner, and as soon as they reached the landing, Harry had him backed against a solid wooden door. The warmth of his heavy breathing ghosted across the younger man’s face, as one hand clutched his waist while the other turned the handle.

The door fell open behind him, but Eggsy did not fall with it. 

Harry pushed him back towards the bed – and the softest sheets Eggsy had ever felt – and set about ridding the younger man of his restricting shirt. With every inch of skin that was exposed, came a dozen lingering kisses, and Eggsy sighed as Harry’s broad hands clutched at his back, dragging the blonde into his lap.

Eggsy’s chest heaved as Harry slowly – _torturously_ – began rocking up against his jeans, blue eyes lost in brown, and the younger man’s forehead fell to rest against Harry’s. The bedframe creaked beneath them, and Eggsy was draped over Egyptian cotton.

Harry reached up and removed his glasses, placing them face down on the end table by the bed. 

“They’ll get scratched,” Eggsy breathed, as the older man’s tongue began to work its way across his chest. He swallowed a whimper as teeth teased one nipple.

“Don’t worry about that,” Harry mumbled, nosing down the soft skin of Eggsy’s stomach. 

Fingers gripped his hips, and Eggsy obediently raised them just enough for Harry to pull his jeans over the dampening bulge in his underwear. They were tossed somewhere behind the bed, and Eggsy huffed a little laugh at the thought of someone so well put together being so careless with clothing. 

He found he didn’t care, as the older man rose above him, mapping taught lines and flushed skin with fingers and tongue and teeth, and Eggsy quivered under the weight of his gaze, shifting his hips again, begging for Harry to touch him.

And Harry fell, clutching sheets and skin, intertwining his long fingers with those of the perfect creature he had glimpsed across a crowded room.

When he woke, Harry was surrounded by warmth and the heady scent of sex clinging to the fabric beneath his cheek. He turned on his back, and found the blonde buried beneath the covers. Pressing a gentle kiss to the hair that was still visible, Harry rose from the bed and set about dressing himself as quietly as he could.

A hastily scrawled note, and the agent was out the door and on his way to face what was sure to be a terribly irate Handler.

He congratulated himself on another accurate prediction, for the very moment he stepped into the shop, David was standing in front of him with a grim expression. 

Harry stifled a smirk as he was led through the back offices to Merlin’s door, and abandoned by the tailor – who offered nothing more a commiserating smile, and a brief pat on the shoulder.

No sooner had he closed Merlin’s door behind him, did the man in the chair fire the first accusation. “You took him back to your house,” he blurted, seemingly dumbfounded by the idea.

“Yes.” 

Merlin frowned at Harry’s easy admission, pushing his glasses further up his nose and leaning forwards to rest his chin on steepled fingers. 

“The house where you live.”

Harry caught the imploring tone, and elected to ignore it.

_“Yes?”_

“The house that he now _knows_ you live in,” Merlin growled, his patience wearing thin.

A quiet hum and a peculiar tingle in his left leg, and Harry reached into his pocket for his phone, grinning at the line of text that accompanied an unfamiliar number flashing on the dark screen. A pleasant hum of contentment rose from his chest at the realisation that Eggsy had stayed. 

_‘Harry there’s a dead dog in ya fuckin’ bathroom m8?’_

His eyes darted back to Merlin as the other man cleared his throat and thrust his hands out with an indignant huff. “Well?”

Harry shrugged, slipped his phone back into his trouser pocket, and turned on his heel, shooting a parting leer over his shoulder. “He’s still there by the way, waiting for me. We’re having lunch this afternoon.”

_Let it not be said that Harry hart did not try - for he really, truly did - to contain his chortle as Merlin sputtered behind him, choking on a drag of hot coffee that ended up trickling down the wrong pipe._

**Author's Note:**

> As I promised, the first of a series of aus!
> 
> Head on over to [trashbagauthor](http://trashbagauthor.tumblr.com/) for updates and upcoming fics!


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